


a tetralogy of the abyss

by apotheosizing



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls II
Genre: Dark Souls-Typical Vagueness, Drabble Sequence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apotheosizing/pseuds/apotheosizing
Summary: Meditations on the destruction of kingdoms.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	a tetralogy of the abyss

She is the silent dread of the abyss and she descends on Eleum Loyce in the first blush of frigid spring. The grand gates that encase the flame of chaos open graciously at her arrival. A king in ivory extends his hand to her, speaking a warm greeting with confidence. She takes his hand with trepidation. She shrinks from his ceaseless small talk but he never takes offence at these quiet rebuffs. Before she knows it, she associates the soft timbre of his presence with friendship.

Silence falls over Eleum Loyce. Spiting her nature, she prays his last wish holds.

* * *

She is the scorn of the abyss, cultivated by the downfall of Shulva. The armies stand at the threshold of the city when she leaves the throne room. The king with sunken eyes who calls after her does not deserve the crown clutched in her fist. Shadows fall on the temple of the slumbering dragon as she steps within, cursing the war poised to thwart her intent.

So ancient was the sleeping dragon that the temple had been built around its resting place. Her authority wakes it. If the kingdom could not be hers, it would certainly not be theirs.

* * *

She is the solitude of the abyss and Brume Tower hollows out in her wake. She and Alonne, left and right hands, set cast the king in iron and since he had not glimpsed their faces. Floors of the tower set between them like graveyards as the kingdom crumbled and cracked. Her name echoed like the call of the lost but she gave it no reply, twisting like flame in her dance. The ranks of the knights thinned with each passing season, no travellers passed the borders. The flame gutters.

She scatters herself like ash, twelvefold in desolation and isolation.

* * *

She is the strength of the abyss, one who settled into the halls of Castle Drangleic as though she always belonged there. She whispers into the ear of the king of the true nature of the soul and its best applications. They march to distant lands, the last giant falls, they return victorious. In the aftermath, when his strength fails, she consigns him without remorse to the mausoleum of his forebears to wither away in abyssal darkness.

The days stagnate. She rules absolute. She watches the approach of the curse bearer, shouldering their burden without falter. She awaits their arrival.

**Author's Note:**

> keeping to a strict word limit for this was a neat challenge. queens of dark souls II rights.


End file.
